April 17, 2008

Cold. The last lips that touch him. Before he vanishesfrom the edge, the soaring bruised altar, from where hetumbles, perhaps plunges, to a sea of symbols.Spirit naked. Words weigh anchor.Trails of troubled water. Further away from the bodythat is about to fade. Like sunken galleon planks.Buried. In a bay cemetery.It’s true he often dreams of a prairie.Asleep in a thick tuft of grass. Runningwith iron bolted feet. Horseshoes. Arrowsand a bow on the back. And taking shelterin the Centaurus cluster. Fluttering tentsin the south of the night sky.South: a transit. To a higherterminal. Perhaps more eternal.But he also witnesses souls collapse.Pigs. Anus broken, punched bya roasting pole. Pierced. Through the jaw.Like them. He’s delivered to the edge. Standing dizzyLooking at the sea. Blue death strutting. Mad. Like gleecoronating its sacrificial victims.He doesn’t want to remember that later a typhoon will descendswinging harpoons in the waves. And the angelis almost bored of waiting.Awaiting the moment of falling. A brief momentthe change of the southern constellationcreated from salt and the light of words.

SUCCUBUS

“Enough.Stop that fever.I know desire will crucify youAt the hour’s end.”Then you close your eyes. Caressing a cleftAt the base. And the scent of grass diffusesLike a magic spell spilling into an estuary.From your gland’s shiver the rivers are drunk on carrions.Sniffing along the valley passing through remote villagesScattered, ruined, into the mouth of lustAt the body’s edge.And the body’s edge, you know, is a pavilionProtruding into another sea. Another realm, where the spiritBows, beheaded, enduring the sway, from the mast which screams‘I’ll tie you, I’ll cut you’, all nightWhen knees seem mashed. Sky vague.And people curse defiling filth. To smite enemiesThat must perish. With pointed gaze lostThrough the nimbus.Heaven: the rusted lock. Crimson rust stainOn decaying texture. I know. Yet desireWon’t be vanquished.The roots will penetrate. Smack.Seize you in snortingIn pantingIn death’s throesThat approach“Enough.Finish it off.I know desire has crucified youOn my body.”